Sam
“My baby’s back,” my mom yells as soon as I step into the house.
I grin as I follow her voice into the living room, where she’s seated with my aunt Meredith. Both women get to their feet and take turns giving me crushing hugs.
Growing up, I had two mothers instead of one. Meredith’s my dad’s younger sister and she has lived with us for as long as I can remember. She never started her own family and always used to tell me that Marty and I are as good as sons to her.
I’ve always been grateful to her. She and my mom are the best of friends and Meredith has helped her through the worst of times. They’re always there for each other.
“Did you pack on some extra muscle?” Meredith questions, cupping my bicep.
I chuckle. “You always say that.”
“Yes, but I swear your shirt is about to rip. You keep working out instead of working on a woman,” she says with a wink.
I shake my head. “I’m not even going to bother unpacking that.”
“Marty! Your brother’s here!” my mom yells.
“For God’s sake, Sara, use the intercom! He and Deira are on the third floor. He’s not going to hear you!” my aunt scolds.
“Oh, right,” my mom says with a small smile before moving to call my brother.
Meredith places her hand on my cheek. She has to get on her tip-toes to do so since I tower over her. Every time I see her, I see my dad. They have the same dark blue eyes and easy smiles. Her hair is short and curly, jet black, like my dad’s. He always used to talk about how Marty and I got all of Mom’s features—her brown hair, her green eyes—but Marty looks a lot like him, and at times I actually see him in myself.
“How’s my biggest baby?” Meredith questions.
“Aunt Meredith, we talked about this. I can’t get Mom to stop calling me baby, but not you too. I’m a man,” I grumble.
“You’re a man when I tell you you’re a man,” she states, leaning away from me.
She tucks her hands under the black cashmere sweater she’s wearing. It’s a little chilly out today and she really hates the cold. Her outfit consists of white leggings, the sweater, and a scarf around her neck, which is overkill in this weather for most normal people, but Meredith isn’t normal people.
“And when’s that going to happen?” I question with a smirk, although I already know what her answer will be.
“When you bring a woman home.”
My mom speaks up before I can say anything. “Seriously, Sam, your little brother’s getting married before you.”
“This isn’t the 1800s, Mom, it doesn’t matter who gets married first,” I tell her.
“Also, if you’re waiting for Sam to get married, Mom, you’ll probably be waiting till you’re, like, eighty,” my brother chimes in, strolling into the living room with his fiancée in tow.
Deira’s a beautiful woman. She’s short, with red hair and light freckles on her nose. She has blue eyes and a warm disposition. She’s my kind of person, actually. She talks little but has a lot of presence, which matches perfectly with Marty’s loud personality.
“Don’t say that,” my mom says on a gasp. “Your brother’s going to be married before spring next year.”
I snort. “Highly unlikely, Mom.”
“I believe you, Sara,” Aunt Meredith says supportively.
I shrug. There’s no way in hell I’m going to meet a woman and fall in love with her in the span of a year, let alone marry her. It’s pretty much impossible.
“Dinner’s ready, Mrs. Carius,” one of the maids announces from the doorway of the living room.
Meredith latches her arm through mine as we all move toward the dining area, where there’s a banquet fit for twenty people. It’s a good thing we have a lot of staff at the house.
“Thank you, Seirah,” Mom says to the head chef as we all take a seat.
“Marty, grace, please,” Meredith says to my brother.
We all link our arms together and bow our heads. While we’re not an overly religious family, our parents made an effort to get us to church on Sundays when we were kids. But as we grew older, life got busier and we simply drifted away from that tradition. My parents used to go together with my aunt until my dad passed away. I don’t think either of them have been to church since then.
Marty clears his throat before starting.
“Thank you, Father, for the gift of life and for bringing us all together here today. Thank you for the food, for my mother and my aunt, and for my brother and Deira. We ask that you always keep us happy and give us a lot more reasons to celebrate. Amen.”
“Amen,” we all chorus.
I didn’t realize how much I missed being with my family until now. Having a meal with conversation flowing all around me brings me a sense of calm. It’s nice to know that I’ll always have this—a safe, comfortable place to come home to. There’s not a lot of permanent things in my life, but my family will always be one.
“Deira, have you made a decision about the name you’ll keep after the wedding?” I ask.
She smiles as she looks at me. Deira’s easy to talk to, simply because she’s great at listening and she’s really perceptive and understanding, as well. We spend a lot of time together since she and Marty live in New York with me.
“Yeah, I have.”
“She’s taking Carius,” my brother informs with a grin. “Deira Carius.”
“It doesn’t matter how many times you say it, Marty, it still sounds weird,” Deira states.
“Well, I think it sounds amazing,” Marty says before leaning closer and giving her a loud open-mouthed kiss on her lips.
I throw a bun at them.
“Gross, Marty.”
My aunt immediately throws one at me. “What are you, five?”
“No throwing food at the table,” my mom sighs.
“But we can throw it at each other?” Marty questions cheekily.
She throws a bun at him in response. We all burst into laughter.
“So, are you guys excited for the bachelor party?” Deira asks.
“Hell yeah,” Marty whoops, which immediately earns him a glare from my mom. He knows better than to swear in front of her. I simply groan at the mention of the bachelor party.
“I think a bachelor party is just what you need, Sam,” Meredith says to me.
“It’s in Vegas, and Marty planned it. There’s no doubt in my mind that things will get out of control,” I state.
“Well, I wouldn’t have had to plan it if you had done so like you should have, dickhead,” Marty sneers.
“I was busy,” I say with a shrug.
“You’re always busy,” they all say simultaneously.
* * *
There’s a drink in my hand, but even that isn’t enough to dull my throbbing headache thanks to the loud music being played. We flew to Vegas this morning and the ten-man bachelor party has, as I expected, turned into some sort of raging frat party. There are kegs and endless booze and terrible music. Three of the men have already stripped down to their boxers, and one of them is passed out.
I’m currently on my third drink and trying very hard not to disappoint my brother by leaving in the middle of his party.
I grit my teeth when the last straw walks through the double doors of the room. I place my solo cup on the table and walk over to the groom, who is in the middle of a poker game. They stop playing when they notice my approach.
“Ready to join the fun?” Marty asks with a grin.
He’s shirtless with a bottle of beer in one hand and a card in another. I suppose I should be glad that he’s having a good time.
“Deira doesn’t mind that you have strippers at this thing?” I question, pointing at the barely clothed women filing into the room.
As soon as they spot them, the faces of all the men at the table light up. I raise an eyebrow at my brother.
“They’re not for me, asshole. They’re for you and the rest of the guys. I already promised my baby. I have a strict no-touching policy,” he states with a grin, then
gets to his feet and blocks my view.
“What has you in such a crappy mood lately, Sam? You’re my best man, you’re supposed to bring the fun.”
“You weren’t looking for fun when you chose me, little brother,” I tell him with a frown.
“No, but I was hoping you’d pull that stick out of your ass.”
I flip him off before moving to the bar and ordering some whiskey. He’s right. I am in a crappy mood, even more so than usual. I should be happy. My brother’s getting married. My father entrusted me to take over his very successful real estate investment firm even before he fully retired, and I bagged a really hard-to-get multi-million-dollar deal. I should be over the moon celebrating, but every time I think about Lisa, I’m hit with a feeling of dread.
I’m not a superstitious man. But why do I have a feeling that shit is about to go down?
* * *
“I present to you all, Mr. and Mrs. Carius,” the priest announces.
And just like that, my family grows.
Applause rings out and everyone in the church gets to their feet. The ceremony was beautiful. Deira looks lovely in her flowing wedding gown, and my brother is dapper in his navy-blue suit. My mom cried, my aunt cried. I did my job and stood behind my brother in a suit of my own while he read his vows to his wife.
The newlyweds walk down the aisle together, and I follow with the maid of honor. It’s then that I see her. She’s in the very last pew, sitting beside her parents. I still in my steps before quickly recovering. A part of me thought she might still come, but another part was hoping she wouldn’t.
Her hazel eyes shift nervously. Then our eyes meet and hers widen. I look away almost immediately and grit my teeth. She shouldn’t have come here.
I go through the rest of the wedding motions subconsciously. I recite the speech at the reception, make a toast, take the pictures. I do it all while making sure to keep my eye on her at all times.
Lisa Lawson is quite literally one of the most beautiful women I’ve ever seen. It’s in the way she looks, the way she carries herself—with grace, with elegance, with confidence.
She has glowing skin with pretty, almond-shaped hazel eyes. She has legs for days and her boobs are at least a C cup, not to mention her jutting ass. She oozes sex appeal, with her long, dark silky hair and beautiful smile. And she’s fucking smart, too. I used to think she would have been perfect if it wasn’t for her temperament.
She and her parents are having a heated conversation about something, and Lisa’s best friend, Dina, sits with them. My mom is friends with Lisa’s parents, but I would have thought Lisa would have stayed far away from here.
I’m not sure what’s going on, but my eyes narrow when Lisa gets to her feet and walks in the direction of the head table.
Oh, hell no.
I cut her off and grab her wrist before turning her toward me. Her eyes are wide in shock. I don’t know if Marty already noticed her before, but he has now. He raises an eyebrow at me from his seat beside his wife. I shake my head and look down at Lisa.
“What the fuck are you doing here?” I hiss.
She wrenches her hand from my grip and smooths down her short blue dress.
“Hello to you too, Sam,” she says under her breath, looking up at me.
“What are you doing here?” I ask again.
“You know I was invited, asshole.”
I look around and notice that a lot of people are beginning to stare at us. I groan softly, taking her hand in mine and leading her to the dance floor. The band chooses that moment to play a slow song so I take her hands and latch them around my shoulders before wrapping mine around her small waist.
“What is happening?” she demands.
“We’re dancing. Talk to me and sway,” I order. We begin moving slowly to the music. “What were you going to say to Marty?”
“I was going to congratulate him on the wedding. What did you think I was going to say?”
“Why would you even come here? After everything?”
She looks up and our eyes meet. There’s something wrong with her. Her hand trembles a little in my grip.
“Why do you seem scared?”
“I’m not scared. What are you scared of, Sam?” she retorts. “What did you think I was going to say to Marty?”
“What do you want to say to him?” I press, ignoring her question.
This feels like a game. It’s the starting line and we’re both not ready to make the first move. Neither of us wants to say the words. It’s frustrating. She’s frustrating.
Then she closes her eyes and leans her head against my chest. My cock hardens when she accidentally brushes her body against it.
Relax, pal.
“You’re right. I need to talk to Marty,” she mumbles against my chest.
She leans away, but she’s still not looking at me. She’s staring at the floor.
“I need to talk to him. I-I need to talk to-to both of you,” she stutters.
My eyes widen. Lisa doesn’t stutter, ever. And she certainly doesn’t get scared.
“I wasn’t going to say anything here today. I just came to see the both of you and get a grasp on how things were,” she rambles.
“Lisa, you’re not making any sense.”
“I-I-I’m pregnant,” she finally says, looking up.
Of all the things I was expecting her to say, that certainly wasn’t in the realm of possibility.
Then she gasps and slaps her hand over her mouth, like she didn’t mean for those words to come out of it. We’ve stopped dancing and my hands detach from her waist.
